Taste of:

Stephen Evans
0

The Smiles by Stephen Evans

When I heard that my grandfather had barricaded himself in his room, I wasn’t surprised. He and my mother had been battling one another since our first day in the house outside of Cheshire, Massachusetts, and no surrender was in sight from either side. But if my mother’s phone call was not surprising, her worried…

Rachael Fowler
0

Lost King by Rachael Fowler

Lost King Mint leaf —clutched by black-bruised fingers. Most crumble and crack from woodsy earth surrounding town after town. Mint does not shatter into scratchy paper pieces, but folds around my skin, clings to my fingerprints. Fuzzy, not a common green leaf quality. I’m Winter-lonesome, scouring for the maple queen of whiskey. Farewell dear king…

Ana Prundaru
0

Love Letter to Autumn by Ana Prundaru

Love Letter to Autumn         by Ana Prundaru the last rose petals in the morning mist eye the bare branches waiting to join to the crinkly coat of leaves Ana is a writer/artist who roams the globe sometimes. Her work has most recently appeared in Agave Magazine, Wilderness House Literary Review, Toad, Rio Grande Review, SmokeLong…

Emily Frankenberg
0

Processes by Emily Frankenberg

Ceaseless is the process of fitting our September souls into a January world, the sharpened pencils of our hopes into a bag of half erasures, the virgin blankness of our planners into boxes at the door. Imperceptible is the process of the treetops turning brown, of gray horizons slowly closing in their bounds. And yet…

Amaryllis Lyle
0

Collisions in Retrograde by Amaryllis Lyle

Collisions in Retrograde by Amaryllis Lyle   There were once November afternoons When he helped me over chain-link fences or held my hot coffee for me while I smoothed my skirt and blinked into the mirror.                How many Novembers have passed                 since then?                Not many,                but I lost count. And on this particular November…

dl mattila
0

Autumn by dl mattila

Autumn     by dl mattila sheds  scarlet hued,   crunch-n-rustle, bone-brittle leafchips,  airborne whirling windships, inebriated petals guzzling chilled  autumn swill.   Stunt pilot yellowreds crazy-eight  overhead, featherweight drifters on blade-burnished air. Swirling trees  dance striptease   while whispered leavings from lofty berths  parasail down to earth’s muted palette of felled festooning. Bio: dl mattila is the author of…

Jared Pearce
5

Jaime’s Summer by Jared Pearce

Jaime’s Summer by Jared Pearce   It should begin along the lines: sorrow, red moon above naked maples, only a sole lamp lit in the house;   gather like the late August rains, like the heat in September, the folds in the living room drapes;   slip away from touch, see how the spiders lift…

RK Riley
0

Scarecrow Part 2 by R.K.Riley

Scarecrow part 2 R.K.Riley   The winter wind calls      shrieks      whispers my name       through her frozen       unmoving            lips. Beneath still eyes                 …baby…baby…get mama down… the dead corn                smears                     rough brown blood against my naked feet. My gaze locked                there     nowhere as her straw hand                scratches                     claws                          tears at my hair       cheek                throat.                …please…please…baby…get me down… Can’t.     Won’t.     Shouldn’t. Lost down…

All rights revert to our authors on publication. Please don't mess with our authors or photographers. ©Apeiron Review